Chapter 25 Teamwork Makes The Dream Work #2
That’s not what I mean. This story will be about you and your experience. His issues are only peripheral. But, as a reader, my question would be: How did she not know what her brother was doing? How could she have been so na?ve?
I think you mean fucking clueless. Cleo sounds more like herself now.
I’m not criticizing you; I’m only trying to get to the heart of the story, Andy explains. Obviously, you have complex family dynamics. Are you willing to examine them?
I’ve never seen Andy in full journalist mode, and it’s quite impressive. I can practically see hearts coming out of Sinc’s eyes as he watches her.
Cleo seriously considers Andy’s request. She doesn’t talk much about her family.
For someone so unfiltered, she’s kept their secrets tight to her chest—like her mistaken resentment towards me.
She’s twisted herself up for years in the hopes of, what—making her family proud?
Keeping them together? Raising a brother who is only a year younger?
And I only know a tiny portion of what she’s been through.
I don’t know what the right thing is for Cleo to do.
Only she can make that decision. As I look around the table, I can see that all her friends look tense and worried.
They’ve known her for years and understand the way she’s been treated by her family.
We’re all hoping that Cleo will put herself first.
I can almost see the tension leaving Cleo’s body as she decides. Okay. I’ll do it. I’ve already come this far, why not kick the whole fucking door down?
There’s a collective sigh of relief around the table.
Once you’ve agreed to the story, I get to write it my way. You won’t get final approval or anything. Andy is upfront about the possible negatives, which I appreciate, since Cleo probably isn’t at her sharpest right now.
You did a great job on Smitty’s profile, Knudy comments.
Well, it’s all hypothetical anyway, right? We have to find out how much all this shit costs first, says Cleo. But I vow to make sure that cost isn’t a problem.
Okay, we have a plan, Becks says. Andy’s going to look into the availability of this testing and the cost. Knudy will check the rules about practising, and I’ll find out about extra ice time and then coordinate with your schedules.
She motions towards all the guys here. Get ready for those 6:30 AM practices of your childhood.
As the women leave, we pause in the living room to check the score of the game. The Wild are nursing their usual one-goal lead. Ethan doesn’t even look up, which is not a good sign for Becks.
I approach Cleo. Hey, can I talk to you alone?
Sure. She looks over at her roommates.
We’ll see you at home, Knudy says, and they leave along with Sinc, who is walking Andy home. That’s their thing.
Want to walk a bit? I suggest, and she nods.
We pull our coats and boots on and head out. It’s March, and there are signs of spring as the fresh snow melts to reveal dirtier snow underneath.
Are you okay? I ask.
Physically, yeah. But it’s weird not having any contact with my brother or father, she admits. Maybe there was a part of me that liked being the fixer.
Does that mean you’re talking to your mother?
She nods. She called me to apologize, which was the minimum that I asked for.
She promised to do better and not to prioritize Jordan over me anymore.
My dad had this big-deal lawyer that he was set on hiring, but without her contribution, he can’t do it.
So, he and Jordan are both putting pressure on her, but she’s hanging in there.
That could have been you. Not the financial part, but getting squeezed in the middle. I hope your mom has a good support system.
Yeah, her sisters are in her corner. They can’t stand my dad. And she has her boyfriend, Graham. He’s a good guy.
Who’s helping you?
All my teammates have been great, especially my roomies. Finally, she smiles, and I can see a glimpse of the old Cleo.
I stop and face her. What about me? Can I support you too?
She blinks, not fully understanding. You already are. Thank you for everything tonight. And if we get to practise together, that would be great.
I put my hands on her shoulders. The familiar, solid feel of her body comforts me. I’d like to do more. I want to be there whenever you need me, Cleo.
What do you mean? Like… get back together? Her suspicious frown is a bad sign.
I nod.
She backs away from my touch. I don’t get you. Just a couple of days ago, I was begging for us to get back together, and now—when my life is totally fucked—you’re here. That makes no sense.
I shove my hands into my jacket pockets. I’ve been thinking about us. You know, people think I’m a pretty chill guy, and I am. But the two of us together can be explosive. You say things, or do things, that make me overreact—I get upset and emotional. And I seem to do the same to you, right?
Cleo nods, so I go on. When you confessed that you’d lied to me about your brother, I overreacted. And when you came back to apologize, I was still angry. I acted like a total dick.
I’ve been a hypocrite. I was so upset when Lana wouldn’t do any work to salvage our relationship, and then I did exactly the same thing to Cleo. Sure, we were still in the early stages, but what we had was so good, and worth any effort to repair.
Cleo watches me warily. And why shouldn’t she doubt me?
“Look, I really believe that if none of this drug shit had happened, we would have gotten back together naturally. I’ll admit I’m slow. It took me too long to get over being upset with you, and then I kept rationalizing why we wouldn’t work.
But I’ve learned my lesson. When you were struggling and I couldn’t help, I felt so terrible. I should have been there to support you. But I promise, I won’t ever do that again. You’ll never get rid of me. Then I worry that sounds too creepy and stalkerish.
Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
Please, Cleo. Give me another chance. Give us another chance.
She frowns. She’s considering my arguments, but then shakes her head. Mats, of course I want to get back with you, but we can’t. I’ve already messed up so many things that are important to you.
Like what?
You got kicked off the Athletic Council. Knudy told me.
It’s probably temporary. But that doesn’t matter.
Come on. What about your life plan? Do you want to be associated with a drug-using cheater?
I reach out and pull her close. When I inhale, her clean scent floods my senses. But you’re not. I never believed that for one second.
Her voice breaks. Everyone’s going to think that I am though. Any records I’ve set will have this invisible fucking asterisk beside them.
It doesn’t matter what people think. You don’t care about all that bullshit, I protest.
I care when it comes to you. I don’t want to fuck up your future, she chokes out.
She trembles beneath my hands, this fragile version of Cleo who is so different from her normal self. But I don’t care, because it’s her inner self that I care the most about. The pure soul of Cleo.
You wouldn’t fuck it up. We’ll be stronger together. We complete each other. That is our truth.
I can see the longing in her eyes. She wants this, wants us. But because I let her down when she was vulnerable, our trust is broken.
Please, Mats. I’m so fucked up right now. Everything you like about me is gone—my confidence, my optimism, my sense of humour.
I like the entirety of you, Cleo. Sure, you’re usually happy and optimistic, but you get to feel sad or stressed too. And I can help you through those bad times. I don’t expect perfection, because I’m far from perfect myself.
She shakes her head. I’m probably going to kick myself by the time I get home, but I’ve got too many things on my mind. I’m sorry, Mats, but I can’t make this decision right now.
I get it. Take all the time you want. And in the meantime, if you need anything, just ask.
She looks at me, her eyes swollen from tears she never lets me see. I could really use a hug.
I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight and sending her all my healing thoughts. The solid feel of her body next to mine reminds me of everything we once had together. And everything I hope we can have once again.